


Told You that I Love You

by Yotsubadancesintherain5



Series: Fairytale/Supernatural [26]
Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gen, Not Rebellion Story Compliant, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yotsubadancesintherain5/pseuds/Yotsubadancesintherain5
Summary: Homura walked upon a perfectly ordinary dirt road to find herself in a land that was not at all ordinary. She began a Quest to find this land's Madoka.
Relationships: Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka
Series: Fairytale/Supernatural [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/768273
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. In Which Homura Learns of Her Quest

It came to pass that a young girl who was extraordinarily unordinary was walking down a dirt path. She was dressed in a plain pitch black colored dress with a white apron tied around it, and her black shoes crunched spectacularly on the dirt path.

Her shoes, if ever given the chance to speak, would tell of all the roads they trodden upon over the years.

If forced to speak truthfully to the young girl would say that she half-expected her shoes to talk. She kept her eyes on the impossible mushrooms that grew along the path; large and colorful like candy, giving off the smell of the sea.

The young girl was a hunter of Witches and Witches were worrisome which wore down her feelings of safety. She eyed the road warily.

No such Witch popped out of the ground or sky. At the fork in the road there was a boulder. On the boulder was an impeccably dressed gentleman, with a top hat sitting snugly on his head. He was writing something in his notebook.

The sight of him made the young girl wonder if this was truly a dream. He was quite ordinary.

“Where am I?” she asked as she walked up to him.

“You know, my dear, just as you know your name.”

Homura did know where she was but it seemed too fantastical for someone with her life.

“I’m not worthy of it. Someone like Madoka is. She’s meant for this Quest.”

The gentleman did not say anything which suited Homura fine because she was not done talking.

“It does not matter if I am tall or small because I have never felt that I am the right size.”

“You are worthy,” the gentleman said, “Even if you never quite feel sure.”

“Just as the others you can call yourself Alice,” he continued.

“ _Alice_.” The name was tentative on her tongue but in a way that was inquisitive. It was akin to a grand title that felt too much for her but was a comfort all the same.

“Then, call me Alice.”

“Alice, then. Would you care to hear other tales of Wonderland?”

For a time Homura was told tremendous stories; of red paths, roses that grew out of blue blood, an immortal green queen, the shared heart of twins and a ghastly train that very nearly smashed Wonderland to pieces.

“And what of my tale?” Homura asked when the stories ceased for a moment.

“The same as your not-dream,” the gentleman said. “The Pink Queen resides in Wonderland.”

“I see. I will find her.”

And with a good-bye Homura set off to her Quest.


	2. In Which Homura Meets a Kind Duchess, an Abrasive Dullahan and a Silent Mermaid

Homura thought many good questions while she walked. If she truly knew where she was going, if this place was truly going to be maddening, or how many times she walked in the footsteps of the Alices before her.

She did not really think of herself as similar to the first Alice.

Homura gave very good advice that others seldom followed, a cat-like creature would be her enemy if it was snow-white instead of a splendid purple-striped feline with an eternal grin, and most importantly Homura would sooner lose her head by her own despair instead of an angrily raving Queen of Hearts.

These differentiations were not a comfort.

She kept them tucked away behind her, like so many uncomforts. There was a distraction, for a smell combated against the scent of the sea; it was gingerbread and cinnamon.

Armed with her own wariness and the stories of children stumbling upon a candy house Homura followed the scent.

The mushrooms gave way to ferns in a large field.

In the middle of the field was a perfectly ordinary cabin. Ivy grew along the front, all the way to the windows. The roof was thatched with straw and the door painted with warm tones. A red bricked chimney puffed out the sweet smells on the wind.

Homura walked across the cobblestone path and knocked on the door. It swung open to reveal a much more ornately dressed girl.

Her silk gown shimmered in the light, and her shiny shoes peeked out from the hem. There was a vibrant, thin green ribbon tied around her neck. Her blonde hair was made up into elaborate curls, and a flower barrette was secured on the side of her head.

“Alice,” she said warmly.

“M – “ a new name announced itself in Homura’s head and instead she said, “Duchess.”

“You are different from when I last saw you, or perhaps I am different and would never know.”

Homura stepped into the cabin and heard a child’s laughter from the upstairs. It echoed in her ears with its familiarity.

“Last we met did I ask you to bring pig snouts?”

“I don’t think so.”

“My, my memory. More to not worry, I must abscond.”

The duchess hurried to a rocking chair in the living room and picked up a bundle that was in a cradle.

Even with this visual explanation Homura could still hear the faint laughter from the upstairs. She went to find the source.

“Alice, be careful of your shoes!”

Homura realized with a start her rudeness. A memory of who this duchess was in her not-dream made her think of melancholic events. Homura kicked off her shoes instead, making a loud clatter, and carried them with the heels balancing on her right hand’s forefinger and middle finger.

There was no sound on the floorboards as she walked. As a satiation to her curiosity Homura checked the tiny kitchen next to the staircase and saw no child. Behind her she could hear the duchess sing a nonsense song to the bundle.

“Be-be, be-be, be-be, be-be,” was what Homura heard. She walked up the stairs and the song grew fainter.

There was only one room at the top of the stairs. It was a bedroom with an impossible fluffy bed and an alcove set under the giant window.

Homura went down the steps two at a time, a strange nostalgia rising in her chest, and went to the Duchess.

“Why, there is no baby!” Homura exclaimed when she got a good look at the bundle.

“Of course there is,” the duchess said. “You cannot be expected to see your past self.”

Homura stepped back and her shoes slipped from her grip. They clattered on the floor.

“As I am now,” the duchess said calmly, “I care for all the years of people left behind, when those people visit my home.”

Homura gathered her shoes, opened her mouth, and then closed her mouth.

“They will disappear as soon as you leave, as it is to be,” the duchess said. “But as it is, isn’t it wonderful that they existed again for a while longer?”

Homura in truth felt unnerved but said nothing. She decided to focus on her Quest.

“Will they follow me to the Pink Queen?”

“They are you, and so they will,” the duchess replied. “Are you afraid? I understand your feelings, almost too much.”

Homura shook her head. “Where can I find her?”

“At the castle,” was the vague answer. “Do be careful.”

Homura slipped her shoes back on as she left. The cobblestone path behind the cabin followed into the vast field.

She would have asked for specific directions to the castle but it may have become vague and unhelpful. It was good enough to keep her eyes opened for the castle. But there may have been one hundred and five castles in this land.

But Homura had enough time. Enough time to determine if this truly was a dream, or if her true self slumbered in the true world. The Pink Queen was a guiding light for the end of this Quest.

The field stretched on and on, enough to cause worry, the hope being that the path continued onward and onward.

When there was only field in front of and behind her Homura could hear the sounds of a revel down the path and hurried to the source.

She came to a lake, where upside-down balloons were tied down to the ground. Haphazard streamers were attached to the balloons. There was little sound when she arrived.

There was a dullahan nearby the lake, dressed in armor and her knees folded under her. Her head was in her hands. Her hair was long and as red as flame.

Another girl rested languidly in the lake. Her arms were folded and rested on the shore, her blue-haired head resting in the crook of her arm.

“I expected a hatter and a tea party,” Homura said.

“Did you spy a white rabbit as well?” the dullahan asked. “I didn’t think so, so don’t think too highly of yourself, Alice.”

“My.”

The only indication of Homura’s true reaction could be told by how she harshly dug her heels into the dirt.

“Can she walk on the land?” Homura asked, to divert attention from how her shoes disrupted the dirt.

“Of course not. She is a mermaid.”

“But I can see her legs,” Homura said.

“She is in the water. Have you ever seen a mermaid on land?” the dullahan asked. “No? Then she is a mermaid.”

“I’ll ask her myself.”

“What makes you think she’ll want to talk to you?”

For that Homura did not have an answer.

“Even so, I cannot begrudge you,” the dullahan said. “Were we friends, once?”

“Perhaps.”

“In some times you would be called a liar and in others as trustful as a raven with its unkindness.”

“If we were once an unkindness,” Homura said, “Then could you tell me the way to the castle?”

“As much as you could do the Lobster Quadrille without a lobster as a partner,” the dullahan said. “But with your pride you are not befit for any dances.”

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Homura asked, for her curiosity and need won over her pride.

“When have you last asked anyone for help?”

“For fight against the Queen of Witches,” Homura said, for Walpurgisnacht was lost from her mind and tongue. “And I – “

Homura said nothing of saving the dullahan from the mermaid, for it seemed amiss to throw that salvation into her face.

“Then,” the dullhan said, “For what little I know, there is but one castle. There will be a precarious forest. Beware of the dolls.”

Homura’s spine rankled in an unpleasant way. Her mouth ran dry. She left without a farewell because she would be unable to say anything at all.


	3. In Which Homura Goes into the Forest and has a Horrid Time

Homura could feel something like a molten lead ball in her stomach roll about and clamor up and down. She attempted to put it behind her but the weight of it was too great.

The click-clack of her shoes on the cobblestone path started to sound more and more like a death toll.

It seemed now that she could not carry the knowledge of the dolls behind her that she was going to lose the knowledge of herself.

It seemed that her wandering had begun to make her lost.

As if this land conspired against her the forest appeared. The trees were dead and their bark was flecked with ash.

Homura walked to the forest, her heart doing somersaults in her ears. She spied a pure white not-cat creature on a branch and even without his red markings and golden rings Homura gritted her teeth.

He was silent, in speaking and in mind. Homura’s regret was letting him explore the crannies of her mind in her waking life.

“Have you anything to say to me?” she asked this land’s version of Kyubey.

He said nothing and merely peered at her. Like he could pierce through the barriers in her mind.

Immediately Homura wished for a hefty gun in her hand. A marvelous one with gold plating that would never injure her wrists. A bullet tried and true would rip apart this not-cat’s head.

The hatred made her mouth taste acidic.

It wormed its way into her bones and bolded her, a hiss through her teeth as she glared at the ineffectual creature.

“If you are not going to help me please do not waste my time,” Homura said.

She walked on boldly, her shoes squelching in the mud and the darkness of the forest enveloped her.

It was quiet, the sort that made her ears ring. Homura knew not the way but only that the way out was forward.

Whispers carried through the air, child-like and haunting. Homura did not stop, her only thought that she would have preferred a garden of living flowers that were insulted by her unfloweriness.

The whispers were louder and coalesced into their accusations.

They spoke of her worthlessness, and heart turned to ice, and how her goodness had rotted away and her foolhardiness in trying to be more than herself and that her head was better suited on a chopping block and tumbled into a basket.

From the darkness porcelain hands reached out to grab at her ankles, wrists and hair, to grip and toss her into the mud.

Homura could not run as she wished and could only see the darkness ahead.

The whispers were shouts and screams that made her cranium pound and ache. Homura’s hands could not risk moving to cover her ears.

The forest gave way to a path and impeccably kept gardens. Homura stumbled.

There was a pond set nearby elaborate cut hedges, of chess pieces that decorated boards. Homura walked to the pond to clean her shoes.

The water was disrupted as she washed the soles of her shoes. A strange sound spilled from her throat. No tears were spilled as she cleaned her shoes. She had run out of them long ago.

Homura wished for a fish to emerge from the water and say that perfection never existed; she was beautiful as she was, and she could do anything with all her imperfections.

But it seemed this place was cruel in denying her wishes for the nonsensical.


	4. In Which Homura Finds the Castle and Not the End of Her Quest

Homura listlessly put her shoes back on. It seemed that all of her muchness had fled from her being. She stood up and brushed down her apron. She looked about the gardens.

In the distance there was a castle. An impossible amount of hope lanced itself through Homura’s heart.

She ran against the stone path. The castle was before her, not a cruel mirage, and Homura desperately ran up the huge staircase.

A tiny flicker in her mind wondered how odd it was that there were no guards positioned at the entrance.

She found that the castle’s interior was red and white. No such troublesome Queen of Hearts appeared so Homura surmised that it was not a castle for cards.

She noticed that her black clothing blended well against the red and white floors and walls and pillars.

“Perhaps I am a checker lost in a castle meant for chess pieces,” she mused in an unaccustomed whimsy.

She traversed through the empty halls. Her hope was alive until it stumbled on itself harshly when she entered the throne room and saw the queens that inhabited this castle. They stood at the top of a grand staircase, looking down upon her.

The queen dressed in a marvelous white baroque dress regarded Homura with an uninterested air. Her green eyes were glassy, her mouth in an apathetic line and her hand methodically ran through her long hair, unrestrained by a veil or crown. Nobody looking upon her could guess that she was capable of killing a girl whose only crime was being in a frightening vision.

The queen dressed in a red intricately stitched and layered dress would be suited to ungovernable passion. Her amber eyes burned with a gleeful malice. She was not cold or calm, scrupulous only to the White Queen and entirely unkind.

At the sight of them Homura’s teeth gritted so hard it seemed they would crack open. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands until she could feel warm blood seep through her fingers. Her jaw popped when she opened her mouth.

“Where is the Pink Queen?”

“She took care of her,” the Red Queen said, gesturing to the White Queen.

Homura’s jaw was tight as she glared upward at the pair.

“Do not look that way. It is unbecoming,” the White Queen said.

“I do not need to know your words.”

“You would do better if you listened,” the White Queen said. “You are a worthless child that has never felt that she has ever been the right size.”

Homura resisted her urge to flinch. She stepped forward in defiance.

“Where is the Pink Queen?”

The White Queen answered this time.

“Step upon the staircase. She is in the looking glass, Alice.”

The name was cold and devoid of humor on her tongue. Homura stepped up and ignored how her legs threatened to collapse under her.

At the top of the throne room was a looking glass, a splendid frame decorated with painted and carved roses. In the frame was the mirror and in the mirror was the Pink Queen.

Her hair cascaded to her feet. Her dress was pink and simple. Her eyes were closed, and her smile was soft. Her hands were clasped together.

Homura reached out, and could feel the air against the self-inflicted wounds in her palms.

“Do you believe you can awaken her?” the White Queen asked. “You could never save her.”

“Some of us were much too fast for you,” the Red Queen taunted.

Homura’s palms received further injury, and she resisted the urge to indulge her desire to strike the Red Queen.

“You shall not be too angry at us,” the White Queen said. “All time flows onward, and it was her time to die.”

“I _despise_ you.”

“Would you prefer to venture to the Queen of Hearts’ court, Alice?” the Red Queen asked. “Are you aware that she will not give you dignity with the chopping block?”

“I do not intend to leave this place,” Homura said icily.

“And yet you seem eager to lead your own execution!” the Red Queen exclaimed.

“Fear not, Alice. We will part your long hair so that it shall rest comfortably on the block and send you on your way,” said the White Queen.

At this, Homura refused to speak further and placed the back of her hand against her mouth.

The Red Queen’s smile showed all of her teeth as her cruel words reached their crescendo.

“It is not too late to leave off at fourteen – “

“That is _enough_.”


	5. In Which Homura Awakens

In one moment the looking glass held the Pink Queen and in the next she was freed and looking upon the other queens with a tempered discontentment. It seemed to the common eye that it was her ability to free herself.

The White Queen said nothing but the redness of her face betrayed her feelings.

The Red Queen looked as if she had been caught painting the white roses red.

“It – we were only – “

“My forgiveness is not an invitation to exact cruelty,” the Pink Queen said.

It was then that the pair of queens fled in a scurry like those that know of their cruelty and exacted it for their own amusement to only stumble when caught.

Homura, in a rushed feeling, took the momentary chaos to clean her fingers of the fresh blood that stained them against her apron. Her palms still stung.

The Pink Queen turned her kind gaze to Homura. There was a soft scent of lilacs in the air.

“Alice,” the Pink Queen said, “Do you know your name?”

“Homura.”

“ _The_ Homura,” the Pink Queen replied with an impish air, her words with a dollop of a question in them.

“My Homura, were their words honest and true?”

The impulse was to lie, but the concern of the Pink Queen’s voice and the face that she wore caused Homura to speak the truth. Of her journey to fulfill her wish and her promise, that in the mechanical ways she went through them left no room for those thoughts for she rarely thought of anything but her mission. But it was like a Witch lingered under her skin.

She had not often breached despair because of this mission. And though Witch hunting was evasive to the common eye, loneliness and self-hatred were not and perhaps it would be time to speak to someone that professionally studied to teach others to work out why those thoughts manifested.

Throughout this spilling of information the expression of the Pink Queen had turned from concerned to a sentimental, sad smile. Like it was a secret between them she asked a question.

“Do you know my name?”

“I – the one I’ve been searching for. Madoka.”

“Ah – have you searched for me in your waking hours?”

Homura, still, had run out of tears long ago. She had no precedent for this emotion. Her heart had been left behind in another life. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I had doubted that you ever existed at all.”

Madoka took that moment to tear her sleeves cleanly. She tied the fabric around Homura’s palms, and left off the gesture with a gentle kiss to Homura’s lips.

Madoka still held Homura’s newly bandaged hands as she stepped back.

“I left you with hope but I suppose it is not enough if you doubt that I ever existed.”

“Is it ever going to be enough?”

“Some days it will and others it will not,” Madoka said. “But you will always carry my love.”

Madoka reached forward to embrace her. For a moment the smell of lilacs enveloped Homura. In that moment she felt that with all her imperfections she was worthy of that love.

In contrast to how they left each other before Homura felt herself rising upward, like cutting through the depths of the ocean, the promise of air awaiting her.

Like she broke through the surface she awoke, and her eyes ached against the new light. And then she felt like she was solidly in the waking world. Homura looked about, found that she was against a tree, she was in a park and she remembered how she got here.

Wraith hunting had ended, and Homura had felt a deep tiredness in her bones. Mami was the one to declare that she would wait until Homura awoke. Evidently, Kyoko and Sayaka shared in that sentiment. Homura could see them nearby the pond, speaking as if they were in their own grand, harmonious tea party.

Homura, for a moment, chased the fleeting residues of the dream. For a moment she could still smell lilacs. For a moment the feeling of soft cloth of improvised bandages was in the palm of her hands, and remained when she looked at her bare palms. For a moment there was a smile on her face.

For the first time she felt like she could grow into her right size.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this.
> 
> There will be a lot of talk of references ahead so feel free to skip ahead if you're not interested.
> 
> In the first chapter I pictured the gentleman as a Professor Layton type. The stories that he talks about - the four color-coded ones and the train - are references to a Vocaloid song created by Yugami-P, "Alice Human Sacrifice," and the video game "American McGee's Alice: Madness Returns." The former because the idea of every visitor to Wonderland being called "Alice," was interesting to me and the latter because it and the original game are one of my favorite dark media re-imaginings.
> 
> Mami is the duchess, and the pig snout is reference to the book duchess's pig son and how in Madness Returns there's a side-quest to collect pig snouts. Her green ribbon is a reference to "The Green Ribbon," short story from the children's book, "In a Dark, Dark Room and Other Scary Stories," to go along with the "losing your head," theme. Kyoko being a dullahan is reference to her witch form and Sayaka being a mermaid to her witch form.
> 
> Though the fic is marked as, "not Rebellion compliant," I used the Clara dolls because of Homulilly's execution theme. In some other universe there is a magical girl therapy that Homura can use...
> 
> The fish in the lake is a reference to Courage the Cowardly Dog's final episode in which a fish says those exact words to Courage.
> 
> Oriko and Kirika's roles are references to the characters from The Looking Glass.  
> The canon Red Queen is cold and calm, like a pedantic governess and the White Queen is considered strange even by Wonderland standards.  
> Kirika's words, "It is not too late to leave off at fourteen," is a reference to a conversation between Alice and Humpty Dumpty where he says, "With proper assistance you might have left off at seven." Dark stuff.
> 
> I thought that because Oriko killed Madoka in "Puella Magi Oriko Magica," Homura would hate the both of them and that their presences would rub salt into Homura's wound after just escaping the forest. I wanted to write them with what I think would be Homura's bias in mind, with them taunting her about Madoka's death and anger at the vision that Oriko had that set off the events of the spin-off. Incidentally, Madoka does forgive Oriko for killing her as shown by Symmetry Diamond.
> 
> The Pink Queen doesn't exist in Alice in Wonderland or Through the Looking Glass - part of choosing Oriko and Kirika as the Red and White Queen was that the middle line would be pink. I am very lucky that Madoka is pink!


End file.
